


First Christmas

by wheel_pen



Series: Darkwood Eastport [16]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Magic, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ria reluctantly joins the holiday-crazy Gillian in divvying up the gifts she’s been accumulating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe. I’ve given a lot of thought to the Darkwood culture, so if something seems confusing, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy!

_First Christmas_

“I love Christmas.” Ria was about to roll her eyes—how much more obvious could you get?—but something about the simple sincerity of Gillian’s expression stopped her. Gillian didn’t love Christmas just to irritate Ria, after all. And why should it irritate Ria in the first place? She celebrated Christmas, too. She just felt more comfortable when it was a little bit… simpler.

“So how many cookies did we end up making?” Ria asked instead, looking at the pile of tins and containers the servants were starting to fill.

“Twenty-three—“

“Never mind, I don’t want to know,” she reversed with a sigh, cutting off the servant who had started to answer. She, Gillian, Eli, and occasionally some of the children had been baking cookies for a week straight, to give to church groups, Girl Scouts, the PTA, sports teams, play groups, hobby clubs, the other Darkwood families, other friends… Gillian had even been slipping some in the magic bag to send back to the Valley. Which Ria supposed Cal knew about, since no one could use the magic bag without his permission, but still. And of course, they were also _receiving_ cookies from all of these different places, and candy, and fruitcakes, and fudge—the house was littered with sweets and Ria was heartily sick of it.

“Carrot stick, milady?” one of the servants offered, holding up a small plate for her.

“Thanks,” she replied, grabbing the vegetables hungrily. Despite all the sugary temptations around her, this baby was going to be _healthy_. Maybe he or she would even learn to love carrots over cookies.

Stranger things had happened.

“Do you want to go over the gifts with me?” Gillian asked eagerly, judging that the servants had the cookie-packing well in hand. “Oh, you don’t have to,” she added quickly, reading Ria’s expression. “It’s just fun to do it together sometimes.”

“No, no, I want to,” Ria decided, though she couldn’t put much enthusiasm in her voice. Maybe she would warm up to it once they got started.

Cal would have badgered her about her words not matching her expression. Even Eli would’ve been unable to resist commenting on the contrast. But Gillian trusted her to make her own choices—her instinctive expression said no, but her deliberate decision was yes, and Gillian nodded and went along. Which already made Ria feel better about the project, because she really enjoyed Gillian’s company.

“I just hope I haven’t gone overboard,” Gillian commented as they descended the stairs to the basement, and Ria felt tired all over again—if even _Gillian_ thought she might have gone overboard—

“Yeah, I think you did,” Ria agreed, staring at the items the servants had laid out across the gym floor. _All_ across the gym floor. In neat rows that made it look like the swap meet Cal had dragged them to over the summer—in fact, some of the items might have come from that. “Well, we can get rid of twenty percent, at least—“ She shot a sidelong glance at Gillian. “You already set aside the stuff to donate to charity and to send back to the Valley, didn’t you?”

“Well, I like to do that right away,” Gillian pointed out, staring over the field of gifts. “There are birthdays coming up,” she remembered after a moment. “We don’t have to give it _all_ at Christmas.”

“Can we donate _more_?” Ria asked hopefully.

Gillian contemplated this for a moment, staring out at the Aladdin’s cave of treasure she had collected. “I’m stimulating the economy,” she insisted instead, bypassing the question.

“You are _so_ sexy to the economy,” Ria deadpanned. “But I don’t think the economy could put up with Cal, so it’s outta luck.” Gillian giggled appreciatively and the two women plunged into the piles.

“Okay, these toys are _old_ ,” Ria judged, picking through the first collection she came upon. “Look how this teddy bear sags. And the color has started to chip off this doll’s face. And this box is completely beat up—what _is_ this, anyway?”

“It’s a _racetrack_ ,” Gillian revealed excitedly.

“Thunder Mountain Speedway?” Ria read dubiously from the faded box.

“See, you assemble this track and these little cars roll down it and loop-the-loop and jump over water and everything,” Gillian explained, pointing out the action-packed pictures. “Only it’s missing the little cars,” she admitted. “But, I bought some separately. They’re over here somewhere—“

“Gillian! You can’t give _old toys_ for Christmas!” Ria declared indignantly. “Well, I mean, in some places they would be really appreciated,” she added, thinking of the toys her grandmother used to bring home from the dump and refurbish. They were often the only ‘new’ toys Ria received each year. “But we don’t need to do that.”

“They’re not _broken_ or anything, they’re just a little _used_ ,” Gillian protested. She picked up the bear Ria had discarded. “I could cut him along a seam, take out the old filling, wash him, and restuff him,” she planned thoughtfully. “It would hardly be any work at all. The servants could do most of it.”

“Where did you even _get_ these?” Ria went on, still pressing her case. “Why don’t you just donate them to a charity?”

“Garage sales,” Gillian replied, in answer to the first question, and Ria rolled her eyes. The ‘garage sale’ was a thoroughly American form of under-the-table commerce which fascinated many Darkwood members, who were eager to analyze the artifacts of American life. Ria did _not_ count herself as one of the fans. “And, oddly enough, most charities now want brand-new toys,” Gillian admitted.

“So you donate _new_ toys, and give your own kids _old_ ones?” Ria scoffed. “That’s just weird.” Gillian shrugged, unconcerned with her wife’s judgment. She was probably thinking more about how best to rehabilitate the broken doll carriage before her. “Well—what if you just put these toys in the playroom, instead of making them presents?” Ria proposed after a moment of thought. “That way the kids can play with them, but without the lifelong trauma of receiving a bucket of half-used sidewalk chalk on Christmas morning.”

Gillian laughed. “I think you might have the right idea,” she agreed pleasantly. “Okay, set aside all these things here, I need to go over them and decide on repairs,” she told a servant, who nodded respectfully.

Feeling that her presence was, in fact, helpful, Ria moved on to the next grouping. “Garage sale?” she guessed, indicating a rack of random clothing items that definitely did not look fresh.

“Yes!” Gillian confirmed, excited all over again. “Aren’t these great? There’s lots of fancy dresses from something called _Prom_ , and _bridesmaids’ dresses_ which have to do with weddings here, and look! Here’s a banana costume!”

Ria was unimpressed with the flaccid bit of yellow flannel. “And what are these for?” she checked.

“The dress-up box, of course!” Gillian was clearly already imagining the pageants the children were going to put on, dancing across the stage in ill-fitting Prom dresses and banana costumes. “And there are purses and shoes and scarves and these wonderful big hats to go with!” She clapped an enormous black and white hat on her head and pulled it low over one eye, the fake flowers on its brim bobbing wildly.

“I feel faint,” Ria claimed.

“Oh, nonsense,” scoffed Gillian, removing the hat. “They’ll have so much fun!”

“Well—I guess so,” Ria finally agreed. The children did tend to be a bit hard on their costumes, and sometimes it was difficult to find ones that fit the older kids. “If you pull out a second-hand wig, though, I’m probably going to puke,” she warned.

“No!” Gillian assured her, giggling. “I did see some at one sale, though, and they were _so creepy_!”

“Okay, this stuff must be from the farmers’ market,” Ria decided, turning to another pile. She recognized the collection of beaded jewelry, hand-turned wooden tops, and slightly lumpy stuffed animals. And the clothes—tie-dyed jumpers, t-shirts emblazoned with jokes Ria didn’t get, hand-knit scarves, leather belts with designs picked in them with a nail by a man with no teeth. The Darkwood clans were _very_ popular at the farmers’ market, even when the produce wasn’t in season.

“People here are _so_ creative,” Gillian marveled, and not for the first time. “And _so_ talented.”

“Oh, I remember these.” Ria examined a small pile of tiny dresses. One woman at the market spent part of her time sewing clothes to fit American Girl dolls and had nearly cried when Gillian and Ria bought so many of them. “Sophia and Laura will love them.”

“And—remember this?” Gillian pulled the lid off a large cardboard box that looked like a trunk. Inside was a baby doll—Bitty Baby, the American Girl company’s product for younger kids—decked out with clothes and accessories. “I’ve been saving her since summer! I thought I would give her to Caroline.”

Gillian had been fortunate enough to win the pricy doll at the Darkwood Ladies’ Convention that she, Ria, and Alice had attended in July. The gathering was an annual meeting for the Darkwood wives and elder daughters living in America, at which the women led roundtable discussions about matters of interest to them, shared advice, and generally bonded. This past year it had been held in Washington, D.C., both as a nod to the new East Coast community and because it was to be the site of the _next_ Darkwood settlement (after the Rural group settled in Mississippi, that is); the women had toured the houses and land bought for the future immigrants’ use (several incoming families were Cal’s relatives, actually), stopped at tourist attractions, and—most important in the eyes of the locals—shopped.

It wasn’t just the malls and boutiques that got their business—the conference also boasted a hall of vendors who had learned the power of the Darkwood purse and plied the ladies with samples of cosmetics, lotions, clothing, jewelry, toys, books, food. The conference organizers always included a number of local artisans and organizations as well, with both hoping their services might be recommended to the future Darkwood residents of the area. Next summer’s conference was planned for Chicago, where Cal’s eccentric younger brother Edgar hoped to settle with his seven beautiful red-haired wives in the near future.

“Or,” Gillian continued thoughtfully, still gazing at the baby doll, “would you rather give this to Lucia? They’re supposed to be for ages three and up, and I’ve got that piano keyboard mat you can dance on that I could give to Caroline…” Carline was going to be a great dancer someday, Gillian thought, if only because she couldn’t sit still long enough to accomplish anything else.

“No, that’s okay,” Ria assured her. “I already got her that giant dump truck thing.” Lucia was a rather rough-and-tumble child at the moment, and all the youngsters had been fascinated by the large vehicles and construction equipment they’d seen in America, which were simply not used in the Valley. “Besides, there’s plenty of other dolls she can play with—oh, here’s that stuff we got at the Walmart in Calais.”

One couldn’t rely on handmade toys forever, apparently, at least not when there were dolls and accessories of all shapes and sizes so readily available in the stores. Gillian and Ria had been able to pick out several specimens, with clothes, toys, and furniture to rival a _real_ baby, in just one trip. Of course, dolls were rather popular playthings around the world; but in the Valley they were especially common, for both girls and boys. After all, as adults their lives were far more likely to revolve around the nurturing of children than the use of large vehicles and construction equipment.

“Now these, we’re going to send to the White Dogs for Christmas,” Gillian pointed out, indicating a pile of items off to the side. “More coffee for Franco, beads for Shoshannah, a nice set of bowls for Amelia, more spices for Belita, and, well, I just don’t know what to get for Gerta,” she sighed. “She’s so hard to shop for. She just doesn’t _do_ anything.”

“Let’s get her some videos of those weird evangelical ministers healing people,” Ria suggested cheekily.

“That would be perfect,” Gillian agreed of their pious but slightly dull mother-in-law. “But Franco would kill me.”

The women continued to wade through the block sets, puzzles, stuffed animals, board games, tricycles, art supplies, and clothes, debating what should be put under the Christmas tree, held back for birthdays, or just slipped quietly into the playroom. Even in America it was harder finding gifts to suit the older children—they were interested in some crafts and games still, but they were also moving more towards DVDs, CDs, and books, items which the Orange Light clan typically put out on the shelves for immediate use by everyone as soon as they were purchased. They had managed to get a hold of a Wii and several accessories, but on the whole they didn’t care for the other video games or electronic offerings so popular with the American teenager. The increased choice of clothing in America made those old enough to have opinions increasingly picky, and critical of what their parents chose _for_ them, so it might be time for some shop gift cards and a supervised trip to the mall.

Ria had passed on to Gillian an American friend’s suggestion of “experience gifts”—taking the older kids on a trip of their choice, for example to an amusement park or national forest. Gillian liked it, as long as she didn’t have to go with; but Cal was too controlling to allow fill-in-the-blank vouchers to be handed out. He was already planning to take the older children, from Louisa to Alice, to New York City in March on an educational tour and had them diligently writing essays and giving presentations about the attractions they wanted to visit. Ria couldn’t imagine the contortions he would insist upon before they were allowed to attend something like a theme park. Ria was certain that despite Gillian’s worries, she would get it all sorted out by the end—even if Ria was just as surprised about what the children opened on Christmas Day as _they_ were.


End file.
